Dearest Bernice
by Bentobunnii
Summary: You will always be in my heart, In my mind, And in your grave. Quotes from Lemony Snicket. Contains Spoilers.


was a man of logic; everything could be explained scientifically. His mind was wrapped around that notion. His world came with ease when he could explain why something was happening, and then break down every mechanical aspect of it. Just something he'd became fond of in his later years. No more hiding under his blankets like a small child whimpering in the dark. Science made everything absolutely clear, and that alone place his mind at ease.  
Yet this was his umpteenth time jerking out of his sleep in a cold sweat. What was impairing his mind that he couldn't sleep for more than 10 minutes, without pouncing from his slumber?

A bad dream perhaps? He shakes his head at the absurd remark. A nightmare would never spook him, more importantly interrupt his sleep. Then what was it? Did his body need something? He wasn't feeling hungry, nor did he have to use the facilities. So what the devil was it? He only felt tired; he was a busy man with a lot of plans happening in the future. Why had his body denied him the function he so desperately needed?  
With a wry sigh he arose from his bed, hearing each joint crack with old age as he toss several sheets of the finest material available on earth, right now as comfortable as they normally were, they irritated him in his battle for sleep.

Hands fumble it into the darkness for the light switch, eyes too tired to search for it through the murky shadows, and lacking the small bifocals to assist made the task more tedious than necessary. An agitated grunt rumbles in his chest as he finds the light to be blown, which is ridiculous for a chandelier. Ignoring it and walking back to miniature dresser by the bed. What good a night stroll would do if he couldn't see. His long nails tapped against the mahogany wood, feeling around for the circular frames.  
The abrupt cold chill that passed through the room brought goose bumps to the doctor, shivering as if he'd been out in Alaska. Surely he didn't hear the air vent click on. Dismissing the cold he quickly found his glasses. He then glanced about the still very dark room, seeing nothing (if barely anything) outside the normal.  
"Must remind myself to make sure that air conditioner is taken care of later." He mutters body riddled with exhaustion 'Being evil was no easy task' he thought idly exciting the room. He set forth marching silently in the hallway, not too sure of his next destination, allowing his feet to carry him wherever.  
The large mansion made all sorts of creaks and moans with each step he took, 'Is this house always this noisy?' he asked himself feeling a little uneasy at the unfamiliar noises.

'Tan.'  
He snaps his head at the hallway letting his thoughts fade, had someone called him? The voice was oddly familiar, husky, yet with an undertone of feminine grace. His eyes narrow; obviously no one was there. Yet he was certain he heard his name. Silently he crept down the corridor, placing his feet gently on the marble floor trying not to frighten off any intruder.  
A small giggle erupted from the vast emptiness of the hallway. The doctor jumps, the tingling sensation of fear tickling at his stomach. He felt the cold air breathing at the back of his neck, as the hair stands on end. His feet long stop moving, his body feeling the unmistakable cold vanish just as quickly as it came.

That voice. It was her calling him. She wanted to talk to him.

Since that incident there have been many more, leaving in a rather unpleasant mood. The staff in charge of cleaning, cooking and his wellbeing was all the ones to suffer. They sat with a silent tongue, his temper shorter, but his list of insults constantly growing ranging from; imbecile, incompetent brute, and blathering buffoon. Luckily for them as of late his mood shifted in a more pleasurable direction. The young man he called son, or Oblio was now present, unhappy, but present. For the most part he was beyond content with just that alone.  
Oblio showed nothing but resistance, rebuking his father in every sense of the word.  
'No problem, soon he'll come around.' He thought, shuddering ever so slightly at the cool breeze on the back of his neck. He masked his brief moment of discomfort with a laugh, the shiny golden helmet sitting between his palms. 'Right by his father side just as he should be.' His plan was falling into place. Project lock-step ready to be initiated, and he was ready for world domination. Soon his son would appreciate his hard work on reuniting their small family.

Guilt was an emotion let go of a long time ago, but brainwashing his own son left an unpleasant taste in his mouth. "It's for the best" he kept assuring himself, shrugging the cold rush of air off, feeling as if it was clinging to him.

The past few nights have been insufferable. Surely he wasn't losing his mind; he didn't have any mental illnesses in his old age, even going as far as setting an appointment with a therapist for a psychological analysis. Even though his personality traits were concerning, there was no mental illnesses. Then why did he keep hearing his name at the midst of night, the same familiar voice echoing through the corridors, calling not only his name, but Oblio's. Under the mind control helmet he replies to the voice, but when asked about it he says nothing. Whenever he's alone he heard it call to him, each time getting angrier and angrier when there is no reply from his lips. He never replied, he never would, acknowledging that voice meant accepting the illogical, which he wasn't ready to commit to. The voice obviously never understood that, but it never stopped the next train of events to occur. The temperature would drop instantly, allowing to visibly see his own breath. He ignored it, letting his work distract him fully. When the stack of papers flew across the room he stopped. When they danced in the wind that wasn't possible he walked out the room, locking it behind him. When there was a small this thud at the door, he resisted the urge to shriek and simply walked away. Perhaps another psychiatric visit was necessary.

When the burning smell of jasmine, rosemary, and lavender filled his home Tan visible snapped at his female staff. The flowery smell irritated his nose, and left him quite uncomfortable.  
"It smells like mother." Oblio said voice lacking in any emotions, simply stating the obvious. Surely enough that upset him so dearly. Her smell, even after all this time he could distinguish it; girly, flowery, and revolting. He hated it, he told her that all the time. She wore it in spite of him. He demanded all the females staff members to stop wearing any perfumes of the flowery variety, or stop all together. Yet the smell lingered in the mansion, now even traveling to his work area. The smell tickled his nose when having a board meeting among his workers. The fool had the nerves to say 'bless you'. Needless to say, he was terminated. Immediately.

Work was becoming stressful, his itinerary planned out to the highest degree. He had a counter attack for every possible attack. So why was he stressed? He lets a wry sigh out (he seems to be doing that a lot more than usual), twirling in his favorite chair to face his desk. Eyes skim over the several documents checking for any details possibly missed.  
'Tan'  
Ah, yes that's why.  
He sighs, resting his head between the palms of both hands. The voice was getting louder, more talkative. He was use to ignoring it, but not the sensation of cool hands resting on his neck, messing the tired muscle. He smiles, the action very soothing until they travel down. He signs with content, his back relaxing against the invisible touch. He hissed through teeth when he felt them press at the aching spot he received from dancing. The tender touch relieved the pain. His breath hitches when they move down further pressing at his stomach. He grunts as the age old warmth set into his gut and wanders to his groin as the invisible hands follow. He jerks from his chair, slamming his palms against the table. He desperately wanted to scream, to argue, to say anything to stop this, but he wouldn't acknowledge her, it, he wasn't going let his mind fill itself with ludicrous ideas. He couldn't take the madness any longer. His eyes flutter shut, he was long past defeat and well over due in exhaustion.

"Bernice. My love for you shall live forever. You, however, did not." 


End file.
